It does not rain the next day. People rejoice outside and thank God since it's one of those boarding schools and it looks like a scene from The Sound of Music or something. And since it is Saturday, there are no lessons and they all have no classes to go to.
Phil is under my tree when I finally get past the drama club Improve Saturday that forms almost right outside my dorm building, and he is leaning against it while eating an apple. He looks like Draco from Harry Potter, except no blond hair.
"Wanna go somewhere?" He asks, crunching his apple.
"Like my room or yours or what?" I ask, confused.
"No. Off campus."
"I can't. I don't have written permission." On weekends you can leave campus for the day, but you have to have a parent or guardian's written permission. Dad never gave me one. I haven't seen him since he dropped me off. I spend holidays at my aunt's house. She says he's unstable. I don't know if it's true, but Aunt Margaret is an intelligent woman.
"I'll make you a written pass." Phil opens his bag and digs out a note book and blue ink pen and begins to write on a clean sheet of paper.
"Isn't that lying? Against school rules?"
"Don't be such a teacher's pet, Howell."
Daniel Howell has my permission to leave campus on weekends.
"What's your parent's name?"
"Put Margaret Porter-Howell." I say, looking down at the damp grass and not into Phil's eyes. If he finds out I'm breaking the rules he'll break me.
Sighed,
Margaret Porter-Howell
Phil rips out the page and hands it to me. "There. Now let's go."
I thank him hesitantly and follow him to the gates, which are tall and metal and look very Gothic with tristing designs and pointed edges.
"Got passes boys?" The guard asks. Yes, the school has guards, but only since so many people were bringing in alcohol and drugs and weapons and such.
"Mines on file under 'Lester'." Phil says.
The guard skims his clip board and nods at Phil. I give him my note and he looks it over then files it away in the wooden clip board.
"Have a nice day, boys." He smiles at us and opens the gate with the push of a small red button and Phil leads me out.
"See? Easy. Let's catch a cab."
I frown. "I don't have money, Phil."
He laughs. "Duh. I'm paying and you can't argue!" He untucks his shirt and looses his tie, so I do the same. We keep walking down the pavement that leads to the front gates until we get the the street side. I always feel werid when Cecile pays for me, but I've known her for four years and it's normal. But Phil is an entirely different story. A different genre all together.
"We'll have fun today. I promise. Taxi!"
